


Killing Time

by GingerbreadBaby



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Gun Kink, Infidelity, Masturbation, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerbreadBaby/pseuds/GingerbreadBaby
Summary: A series of Carlos x Reader one-shots, inspired by my thirst for this himbo <3
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	1. Killing Time

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm 150% heartbroken-- because this was meant to be an entirely different fic. I typed out a whole introduction, and was *so* proud of the chapter, and then my web crashed and I lost it all as I tried to post. I was too devastated to try and rewrite the whole chapter, so now we have this! 
> 
> Firstly, I'm very new to the Resident Evil fandom, and my knowledge is pretty limited. I was inspired by my thirst for Carlos, and other RE3 fics that I've read over the past few days. Particularly, @Gberryb 's story "Young Pups to Wolves" made me weak, and I'd encourage you to check it out if you haven't! Finally, I'd love to hear what you think, comments and kudos are encouraged! Much love <3

You were the most infuriating woman he’d ever met. Your arrogance drove him wild, your snide comments set his jaw, and your ass--

Well, it was _perfect_. 

That was the most frustrating part. No matter how much he hated you, Carlos  _ wanted _ you just as badly. You were just so damn…  _ perfect. _ In a pair of standard-issue fatigues, you could be a runway model, and with a rifle slung over your shoulder, you brought  _ filthy _ thoughts to his mind. The gentle swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, and your toned ass-- they haunted his dreams, and interfered in his day-to-day jobs. 

It only took one cursory glance at your naturally swaying hips, before his guard fell, and an infected got the drop on him. Shouting a string of curses, he lodged his elbow in the thing’s throat, writhing and struggling to free himself of its grip. 

Three bursts of gunfire, and the thing was limp in his grasp. 

You blew the smoke from your barrel with a small smirk, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Watch your six, Oliveira.” 

Carlos could only scowl as his dick twitched. 

He shambled through the rest of the day, doing his best to ignore you all together, and focus on the mission. They were searching for supplies, searching whatever convenience stores hadn’t already been looted. It was slow, boring work, beyond the occasional infected, with little reward beyond a few cans of food, and one paltry first-aid kit. 

He was dragging his feet on the way home, focusing all his attention on surveillance, listening for the telltale sounds of the undead-- almost disappointed when none appeared. 

But, soon enough, you were back to HQ, and Carlos quickly dismissed himself, heading for the farthest car, and closing the door behind him, collapsing onto the makeshift bed.  _ Jesus.  _ He was  _ still  _ hard. His hand strayed to the bulge, running a knuckle, and shivering at the result. He glanced at the door, once to satisfy himself, and unzipped his fly. 

The thought of you was still fresh on his mind. He mindlessly began a slow pace, eyes closed as he indulged in a familiar fantasy.  _ Far  _ away from here, the smell of gunpowder in the air, and you bouncing on his cock. His hands roamed your curves, each of his thrusts eliciting a small moan from those  _ perfect  _ lips, head thrown back in ecstasy. You moaned his name, grinding your hips into his,  _ begging  _ him to fuck you. His hand moved faster to match the pace in his head, imagining your warm, wet sex in place of his calloused hand. “ _ Fuck,”  _ he hissed, slamming his head back against the pillows, “just like that, Y/N,  _ fuck.”  _

“Oh my  _ God!” _

His eyes snapped open, his heart stopping in his chest, seeing  _ you-- the real you--  _ standing in the doorway. And in a moment of perverse shame, a pearl of pre-cum dripped out of his dick and onto his stomach. He was silent, cheeks flooded red, frozen in place with his hand around his member. 

You were sure you’d been imagining the moaning coming from the back of the train, but hearing  _ your name  _ made all the difference in the world. And now, seeing  _ Carlos  _ moaning for you,  _ touching himself  _ to the thought of you, it sent a wave of electricity through you. 

Carlos was silent and still, awaiting your judgement,  _ painfully  _ hard. 

And you moved inside the car, eyes fixed to his member, hunger flooding your expression. “Keep going,” you urged softly, closing the door behind you, and lingering there for a moment more, “tell me what you want.”

God, if that wasn’t the sexiest thing you’d ever said. Carlos swallowed hard, and continued the motion of his hand, his eyes on you now--  _ oh so  _ aware of how real this was. “I want you to ride me,” his voice was hoarse, husky, low, pupils blown in obvious need. “I  _ need  _ you to touch me.” Pride be damned, if this was his one opportunity to catch you off guard…

You shrugged the cotton-tee over your head, crouching beside the bed, and replacing his hand with your own. “Is this what you wanted all along?” You purred, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin of his neck. “My  _ attention?” _

He bucked his hips into your hand, a trembling sensation of warmth flooding his stomach as his mind fell blank. “More,” he begged, breathlessly. His hands felt useless at his sides, eyes drawn to the perfect swell of your breasts, and moaning at the sight. 

Your thumb stroked the prominent vein along the side of his member, watching him shiver with the sensation. “You’re so good for me,  _ Carlos,” _ you encouraged, picking up the pace, pleased when he gasped. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Mouth,” he begged, eyes rolling back, twitching in your grasp. “ _ Please.  _ I’m so close.” 

It felt  _ good _ to see him like this. Weak, begging,  _ needy.  _ Your ego inflated with each pass of your name across his lips, each a desperate plea to push him across the precipice to his climax. You let him struggle for a moment, your pace slow and deliberate, watching the heat flood his cheeks as he struggles to voice a plea beyond your name, repeated over and over like a mantra. But you weren’t cruel, and the moment you withdrew your hand from his shaft, it was swiftly replaced with hot, dexterous movements from your tongue. 

Your lips closed over the tip of his member, sucking hard, and making deliberate flicks against the sensitive skin with your tongue. Your hand slid up the exposed plain of his chest, admiring the tanned flesh on display for your eyes only. 

Carlos bucked up again with his hips, and with a satisfied groan,  _ finally  _ reached satisfaction. 

Hot ropes of his seed covered your tongue, and you swallowed your hard-earned prize. Pulling free, you shifted on the floor, looking up to his blissful expression with no small amount of anticipation. 

He cracked open an eye, still trying to catch his breath, and wiggled on the makeshift mattress to clear a space for you. “C’mere,” he urged, opening his arms, and giving you a tired grin. “We got  _ all  _ night.” 


	2. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's left at the end of the world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so pleased by the response to this! Please, continue to leave comments, and kudos-- I'd love to hear if anyone has a request or idea for another one shot with our boy!  
> Enjoy <3

Cigarette smoke curled lazily through the air, drifting away in the wind, mingling with the smell of decay and filth that had become all too common in Raccoon City. You tapped the ash on the window-sill, discarding the stub and watching it plummet to the street below, noiselessly. 

Carlos abstained, but joined you anyways, sitting on the fire-escape and looking up at the stars, tense in the nighttime chill. Tomorrow, it would be more of the same-- grueling, disgusting work-- but for tonight… he enjoyed the peace and quiet. 

“What do you miss the most?” You posed the question, drumming your fingers on the rough metal surface of the landing, eyes drawn down the street at rows of ravaged bars, shops, and houses. Just a few months ago, you would’ve seen happy couples, drunk off their asses, whooping and hollering in the streets. You would’ve heard music, seen flickering street lights twinkle as people prepared for autumn, pulling down their Halloween decorations, and raking their leaves. But you never knew that place. You were brought into a broken shell of a city, with undead already prowling the streets, and ordered to point and shoot. 

“A comfortable bed,” Carlos answered, a half-smile tugging at his expression as he ignored the longing in your voice. It wasn’t good to focus on the past, you’d get trapped there if you weren’t careful. “What about you?”

You thought for a moment, picking at an implacable speck of dirt on your slacks. “That little bar in La Paz,” you answered thoughtfully, “the one by the airport. We got so wasted--”

“I remember,” Carlos interjected softly, “ _ carrying  _ you back to your hotel room after you had  _ one  _ too many tequila shots.” He nudged your knee with his own, almost playfully. “You kept trying to  _ kiss  _ me,” he mimicked the action with a grotesque kissing sound, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “and you wouldn’t let me leave until you did.” 

The memory flickered hazily, and you couldn’t fight the smile that rose. “I got my kiss, didn’t I? Sounds like victory to me,” you leaned into him now, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. “That was our first kiss,” you mused, “and all I remember is your  _ breath _ .”

He shoved you with a small scoff, nose wrinkling with distaste. “Whatever,” he retorted, “at least  _ I _ didn’t get caught getting  _ railed  _ in the showers on base.”

“ _ That was you?” _ You accused, eyes widening with sudden clarity, and an indignant expression. “You sent the  _ Sergeant  _ in to  _ bust  _ me?” You remembered the embarrassment, your CO shouting at you and your (at the time) boyfriend, with cum dripping down your legs under an ice-cold shower. “I can’t believe you!”

Carlos gave an innocent shrug, his expression elusive. “So what? I was jealous and  _ you  _ never gave me the time of day,” his arms slid around your waist, in a small gesture of comfort.

“I was in a relationship!” You justified, cheeks flooding with heat at the realization that Carlos had most  _ definitely  _ seen you in the shower, and had  _ almost certainly  _ seen you fake an orgasm with your shitty boyfriend. You wanted to be furious with him, or even a little bit angry, but in that moment-- you could see the hilarity of the situation too. “And  _ you  _ were acting like a fuckboy!” You squared your shoulders in your best Carlos impression. “ _ Hey, mami, come back to my place after drills.”  _ You broke out into a peal of laughter that echoed through the near-silent streets. 

Carlos pulled your closer, fingers skimming the edge of your tee-shirt, breath fanning across your neck in even, hot bursts. “ _ You’re saying it didn’t work?”  _ His voice was suddenly rougher, deeper, running a hand over your hip and giving a soft squeeze. 

You shuddered, heat pooling in your stomach, fighting the urge to make an embarrassing whining sound.  _ You hated how he was able to get you going with just a few touches.  _ “Cut it out, you  _ dick _ ,” you mumbled, eyes focused on the movement of his fingers. “You know we can’t, you’re just being a  _ tease _ .” 

You felt his shoulders move in an ambivalent gesture behind you. “Who says we can’t?” He ran a knuckle over the top of your thigh. 

You rolled your eyes. “There’s a dozen guys sleeping in the next room, and we’re  _ outside _ ,” the idea was tempting, but you brushed it off.

Carlos glanced down at the street with a furrowed brow, seeing one infected stumbling in the alley beside one of the bars. “I don’t think he’ll mind,” he reasoned, one hand sliding up under your shirt, fingering the edge of your bra. “It’s probably the most exciting thing he’s seen all day.” 

You bit your lip, thinking. 

Sensing your indecision, Carlos pressed harder. “And the guys are  _ asleep _ ,” tactile fingers found the metal clasp of your bra, unhooking it with a single motion, and hovering, “as long as you keep  _ quiet _ , they’ll never know.” He sounded  _ so  _ confident, so assured-- waiting for the moment that perfect syllable left your lips.  _ Yes.  _

You looked up towards the stars again, unable to deny the thrumming in your chest, the quiet yearning for his touch.  _ You had to make up for lost time. Who knows when you’d have another chance like this?  _ You shifted in his grasp, helping him shrug off your top. “We’re going to have to be quick,” you warned, a flush crawling up your neck as your tits bounced freely-- exposed to the cool night air. 

Carlos grinned like a madman, pressing a kiss to your pulse-point, and eagerly beginning his work. He fumbled with the firm metal fastenings on your pants, pulling the zipper with impatience, and letting his hand slide into the newly created space. It was tight, difficult to manage, but more than worth it to watch you squirm as his finger grazed the damp cotton covering your sex. “How do you want me?” He asked, tone loaded with suggestion, tracing a leisurely circle around that sensitive bundle of nerves at the head of your folds. 

He loved to tease, you’d learned, until the moment you  _ couldn’t  _ bear it anymore, before finally burying himself in you. He knew exactly what drove you wild, and exploited that knowledge, with loving touches that were  _ so close  _ to what you needed. Even now, he was taking his sweet time, using his left hand to flick a newly perky nipple. 

“ _ Carlos _ ,” you whined softly, leaning back against him for support as you struggled under his touches. “Stop teasing.”

He lifted a brow, ghosting a finger over your clit and grinning as you trembled in response. “Teasing? I’m giving you what you want,  _ nena,”  _ he pressed a thin line of kisses up the column of your throat, “you’re so  _ sensitive  _ tonight. If I fuck you, I think you’ll  _ scream.” _ He lowered his voice, barely audible against the shell of your ear. “And we need to be quiet,  _ right?”  _

He was right, however much it pained you to admit-- the past few months of strict regimen and unending peril had left your sex life…  _ unattended _ . Carlos knew that better than anyone, he was in the same position. And while you loved his dedication to foreplay, and making sure you were  _ ready  _ for him-- you weren’t as patient tonight. You  _ needed _ him.  _ Now.  _

So, you used his own tactics against him. “I want you to fuck me,  _ Carlos,”  _ you rolled the ‘r’ in his name, tilting your eyes in his direction, and gazing up at him through the lashes. “Over the railing.  _ Hard.”  _

The humor in his expression disappeared, a teasing jovial smile giving way for a thundering darkness to flood into his eyes. It wasn’t like you to be so  _ direct.  _ So  _ needy.  _ He carefully withdrew his hands, giving your breast one parting squeeze, before carefully helping you to your feet and towards the railing. The metal was rusted and filthy, prompting a small frown from Carlos as he shrugged off his shirt, wrapping it around the beam to create a safe support for you. 

You smiled graciously, glancing back at the window, surprised to find perverse excitement taking the place of anxious dread. When would you get another opportunity like this? 

Carlos edged you forward, fingers curling over the waistband of your slacks and swiftly pulling them down to sag around your ankles, examining your sex in the dim light from inside the apartment. His effect on you was obvious, and flattering, as he slid one finger along your slit, coming way with a shine of arousal. He nudged your thighs apart, running a hand up and humming with approval. “You get prettier every time I see you,  _ mami, _ ” he murmured. 

You flushed, biting your lip again and carefully positioning yourself over the railing. You gripped the support tightly, barely cognisant of the two stories between you and the ground. If you fell (and you  _ wouldn’t)  _ Carlos would catch you. Sticking out your ass in his direction, you waited patiently for his touch to return, hearing the soft purr of a zipper behind you. 

Carlos indulged you with one broad swipe of his tongue, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit, before fully standing and positioning himself behind you. He ran the tip of his member through your folds, gathering a sheen of your arousal, and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “This is what you want?” He asked again, waiting until he saw your head bob before he made a move. 

It was a slow press, languid and determined, until his hips bones were flush against your rear. He gave a soft groan, giving a few shallow thrusts as he adjusted to the sensation.  _ What a view.  _ He ran a hand up your waist, watching the goosebumps rise, and pulled you back towards him, rewarded with a muffled moan as you  _ desperately  _ tried to keep quiet. “ _ So _ good for me,” he praised, repeating the motion. 

You were gnawing on your cheek as lightly as you dared, pressed up onto your tiptoes to fully meet his thrusts, knees wobbling beneath you. Your sex seemed to squeeze around him, resistant to his attempts to pull out-- urging him deeper and deeper to that point that made your toes curl. 

His fingers kneaded into the flesh of your soft hips, trying to find a grip to pick up the pace, most definitely leaving lilac marks on the tender skin to bloom in the morning. It was worth it. Worth it to hear you moan his name in that way that made his spine tingle, worth it to feel the brush of warmth when your skin brushed against his. He found a quicker tempo, establishing a rhythm in tandem with the groans of the fire escape beneath your feet. 

Your breathing was coming out in pants, leaning on the railing for support more fully now, feeling a wave of vibration ripple through you each time his hips connected with yours. 

With the way you felt around him, and the rush of blood at his eardrums-- Carlos knew he didn’t have much longer to bring you to climax. His hand dropped to that familiar spot at the head of your sex, timing the tiny minstrations to match the speed he’d established. He gave one  _ hard  _ thrust, holding you pressed against him, and purred with satisfaction. “Cum for me,  _ nena _ ,” he urged softly, pressing a kiss to the center of your spine. “I’m right behind you.  _ I love you. _ ” 

You wiggled against the rough,  _ fast _ touch, chest heaving as you focused in on his words. You tensed up, and with a sharp keening cry, felt that last wall of resistance tumble in your stomach-- pushed over the edge of your orgasm. You were still for a moment, feeling warmth give way to heat as Carlos finished with a quiet grunt. 

Covered with a thin sheen of sweat, Carlos fought back a smile. “I change my answer,” he murmured softly, running an affectionate hand over the swell of your hips, “I missed  _ you.” _


	3. Cariño

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of a two-parter. Carlos has stood by and watched your husband misuse you for too long, and after one particularly nasty fight, he comes to comfort you.

It definitely wasn’t the job he imagined when he applied to Umbrella Corp. Working as a private security detail for some rich asshole on the board of directors? But— the rich asshole paid well, and the job was almost insulting easy— so he stayed. 

And you— well, you were an added perk to the job. Possibly the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, effortlessly polite and charming— and above all else, treating him like a person and not a hired gun. More than once... Carlos had wondered exactly why a woman like you had married a man like  _ him _ . 

Your husband, his boss, was aging and grey, with outdated convictions and ideas of what a woman’s role in the household should be. More than once, he’d made some demeaning remark in front of company— and Carlos watched your smile fade. It always led to a fight, one that Carlos pretended not to hear. 

But this time, things truly went too far to ignore. 

He couldn’t remember how it started— but he was patrolling the west wing of the expansive estate, and heard the sound of something breaking, followed by a burst of shouting. 

Wincing, Carlos drew closer— listening through the door as another priceless antique was shattered against the wall, and you argued furiously with your husband over some sexist comment he’d made to his friends. 

In a few minutes, like always, he stormed off— brushing past Carlos with a scowl. “Crazy bitch...”

It took Carlos a few minutes to gather the nerve to knock on the closed door of your bedroom. “Y/N? Are you alright?” He could hear soft sniffles from the other side of the door suddenly grow quiet. 

“I’m... fine.” Your voice wavered, and you buried your face in your pillows. “Go away, Carlos.” 

He couldn’t fight the small smile that rose as you said his name in your perfect dulcet— but the concern lingered. He tried the door, unsurprised to find it locked. “Can I come in? I want to see you,” your husband was long gone, there was nothing to worry about. He’d comforted you before— offered you a warm embrace in your time of need— this was nothing different. 

There was a pause, and the quiet sound of shuffling feet across the expensive carpet— and the sound of a lock clicking, as you peered through a minuscule crack in the door. “He’s gone?” 

Carlos nodded, stepping to the side— allowing you to investigate to your heart’s desire— before slipping into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He was tempted to turn the lock, but held off, instead taking a moment to examine you. 

There was evidence of your distress: blotchy cheeks, watery eyes, and the slight sniffles that you tried to hide by biting your lip… but, to his relief, there were no signs of any abrasions, bruises, or fading marks. Your husband was a good-for-nothing  _ gringo,  _ but if he hit you, he’d be a  _ dead  _ one at that. 

You wouldn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on the shards of the Ming Dynasty vase that had exploded against your bedroom wall. “I told you that I was fine,” your voice trembled even as you said this, “it’s none of your business anyways.” You snapped quietly, pulling your silk robe tighter around your shoulders, and glancing back to those  _ dark  _ eyes, before losing your nerve.

The anger was normal, and it faded just as quickly as it came. It was hard, Carlos reasoned, to watch your marriage fall apart, and harder still to accept that. His soft expression, his tender words, they felt like pity— and you hated that. “I just came to see if you were alright,” he offered again, calm and reserved, well-within the bounds of polite society. “Do you need anything? Tea?” 

“No,” you waved him off, sniffing once more, and grabbing a tissue from the box beside your bed. “I just don’t think I can stand to see  _ him  _ in the morning. Did you hear what he called me?”

Carlos grimaced, but knew better than to repeat it. “Do you want me to drive you to a hotel?” 

You gave him a hard look. “I’m not running away from this,” you wadded up the tissue in your hand and dropped it into the waste-basket. “He started a fight. Expected me to cower and obey like  _ his _ woman. Wouldn’t fleeing prove his point?” 

It almost certainly wasn’t his place to say, but he softly cleared his throat and spoke. “I don’t think you’re going to change his mind,  _ cariño,”  _ the word sounded tender on his tongue. “He’s an old man, and set in his ways. Haven’t you had this same fight before?” He knew the answer, he’d heard previous renditions of this same argument. 

Silence settled between you heavily, the room suddenly claustrophobic with a truth you’d been long ignoring. “I need to leave him.” 

Carlos felt the breath leave his lungs. He’d dreamed about this conversation, this exact moment of clarity, but hearing you say it? It was sweeter than he’d ever imagined. But he was nothing if not cautious. You were stuck in the heat of the moment, you were hurt and angry, he reminded himself. “Okay,” he answered calmly, “where are you going to go?” 

“I--” your shoulders slide downward, a sour expression coming to rest on your face. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “My family’s on the other side of the world… but I  _ can’t  _ stay here. I  _ can’t  _ stay with him.” You peered up at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Carlos… do you honestly think he can change? Do you think he can learn to love me?” 

Could he lie to you? Was it kinder, better even, to lie and spare you the heartbreak? “No,” he offered finally, “I don’t think he’s capable of love. Not like you and me, he’s hollow on the inside,” he couldn’t bite back the contempt in his voice. “You deserve someone stronger, someone better--”

“Someone like you?” You completed the thought, piercing the center of his chest with three simple words. 

His expression betrayed him in an instant. “I…” Any words to form an excuse fled, leaving him hopeless and dumbfounded. 

“It’s a good thing you’re not a spy, Carlos,” you met his eyes, levity entering your tone, “you’re not very good at concealing your intentions.” At his stunned silence, you continued. “If I wasn’t so selfish, I could have you fired.” 

“Selfish?” He didn’t think before the question left his lips, feeling suddenly absent from his body.

You scoffed again, quietly, balling up a tissue in your hand. “You think my husband is  _ good looking? _ Do you think he’s  _ proficient  _ in bed? I’m not blind, Carlos… and I have  _ my  _ fantasies too.” 

Carlos was reeling from your first admission, and hadn’t yet recovered when you confessed your  _ desire  _ of him. “How long--”

“Have I wanted you?” You completed his thought, simply. “April. The charity auction, when  _ he,” _ you didn’t dare bring his name into this suddenly tense situation, “told me my dress made me look like a  _ slut.”  _ You recalled the memory with a slight and bitter smile. “You found me hiding in one of the estate’s bedrooms, and brought me a drink.”

_ Months.  _ For  _ months,  _ he had hidden his feelings, assuming you saw him as another face in the crowd, a  _ friend _ but nothing more. And for  _ months,  _ you had been pining in return,  _ sharing  _ his fantasies, never showing  _ any  _ indication of uncordial emotion. “Does he… know?” 

You shook your head. “He thinks no-one would dare covet his wife, much less cuckold him.” The thought was amusing, a twisted knife of revenge falling into your grasp. 

It gave him some comfort, knowing that he had not been  _ so  _ obvious. But a layer of smothering tension had settled over the room, and he was left with more questions than answers. “What do you want to do?” He picked his words carefully. 

You lifted a brow, carefully closing the distance between you, and tilting your face up towards his. “Do you  _ want  _ me, Carlos?” 

Each brush of his name against your lips was sinful. He forced himself to keep his eyes open and on you. “Yes,” he answered, voice low, restraining himself to the simple response. If he dedicated more words, he might lose his nerve, or worse, he might lose the fragile sense of control he had over the situation. 

You could clearly see the rigidity in his posture, the tense set of his jaw, that soldier’s training leaking into his muscles. You said nothing, breaking his gaze, and stepping to his right, moving away from him. 

Disappointment seeped into his stomach. You were toying with him, working him up, getting him to confess what had been plaguing him for months… and then walking away. And then he heard the click of the lock behind him, sealing you both inside the suddenly much too small room. Relief settled in disappointment’s place. Your fingers brushed under the bulk of his shoulder blade, and he shivered imperceptibly. 

Your free hand wound around his waist, touching his side-arm and pausing. 

He blanched. He’d forgotten he was still strapped, the requisite for his position. “I can--” his hand fell to envelop yours, moving to undo the holster.

Your slender fingers stopped him. “No… I like it. Keep it on.” Content with that, you instead turned your attention to the cotton shirt he wore.  _ “This,  _ however, can go.” 

He was shrugging it off in a heartbeat, pulse thrumming in his ears, unable to deny how the slight authority in your tone was… getting to him. He’d seen you as fragile, something worth protecting-- but you didn’t need to be coddled. There was a reason you’d been able to slip into Umbrella Corp’s inner circle, even if no-one was yet aware they were being played. He was shocked he hadn’t seen it himself. Your hands were soft, but sure, and he melted in your grasp. He waited for another command, impatiently. 

Your hand found his belt-buckle, and again, hesitated. “Not yet,” you offered, thumb brushing against the exposed skin beneath his navel. “Get on the bed.” 

He was never happier to obey an order. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I've been slowly chipping away at this chapter over the past few months, and finally decided to bite the bullet and post what I have so far. A second chapter is coming, but enjoy this in the meantime! If you have suggestions, ideas, or even if you just liked the chapter, please comment! It makes my day and motivates me to write. Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
